Greetings to you all.
The anniversary of my dear mama’s passing is this week, and so today I’m going to take some time to get a little real, a little emotional, and I hope you’re on board with that... If you’re with me, strap in. It’s a journey.
In a previous post I had mentioned that there were several losses (aka deaths) in my family over the last couple of years. First my uncle, in Dec 2020, then my mother-in-law, in Jan 2021, and then my own mama, in June 2021… yes, all 3 losses within only a 6 month span. None of them were especially old, but they each had their own health concerns. The first two were in hospital for such, and though it was heartbreaking to lose them, it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities. My mom passing, on the other hand, was completely out of left field, completely unexpected, and shook me to the very core of my being.
Time waits for no one.
On NYE 2020, following the passing of my uncle, and MiL being in the hospital, hubby and I decided that it was high time to re-prioritize our lives. With the world looking the way it did, with everyone being so isolated, but time continuing to tick on, we knew we had to do something - it was time to put family first, to allow the kids to form stronger bonds with the extended family, to get to spend time and make memories while they could. We decided it was time to move away from the coast, back to Alberta, where the majority of our family lives.
Houses on the west coast are prohibitively expensive, and we had been renting the same basement suite for over 10 years. We wanted needed more space, and the only way that was going to happen was to make a big move. In Alberta, not only could we afford to actually purchase a house, but we’d have family nearby to help us settle in, and soften the blow of the move away from the ocean, our friends, and the only place our children had ever called “home”. We began looking at options online, but kept the decision to move to ourselves.
A few weeks later we received a call, telling us MiL’s doctors had said “if you want to see her, you’d better come quick”... We packed up, jumped in the car, and hit the road for our 12+ hour journey.
We arrived in the afternoon, and went straight to the hospital. Keep in mind, this was still in the midst of CoVid protocols… we were fortunate that there was an exception to the “one and only visitor” rule for folks who were receiving palliative or end-of-life care, as my husband is the youngest of 6 children. The siblings were taking shifts, as they were allowed 3 in the room at a time. I dropped him off, and took the kids to my mom’s to wait for him to call if/when I could go as well. Our kids asked to go too, but we were still in the midst of making sure each sibling got a chance to see her. We weren't sure how they would handle seeing her that way, had a conversation about what they could expect (tubes, machines, and Grandma being a shell of her former self, and how it can be difficult to see someone we love in that state) and told them if they were sure we’d take them the next day. Little Miss was adamant she was going to bring Grandma flowers.
In the wee hours the phone rang, she was gone. When the kids woke several hours later, we shared the news, and they were understandably upset. Upset that Grandma was gone, upset that they didn’t get a chance to see her (I still think it’s better they didn't see her that way), upset they didn’t get to bring her those flowers. Being that gatherings were extremely limited, and that extended family is vast, and scattered throughout the continent, we did not hold a service. But we did take Little Miss to get those flowers. The kids each made a card, and we brought them to Grandma’s favourite place, with her favourite view, we said a few words, and left them there for her to see, from wherever she was watching... our own makeshift memorial service: small, but heartfelt.
Making the move now made even more sense.
Time waits for no one.
We began looking online daily at houses in all sorts of different communities. We have a triangulation of location, where most of the family lives, and decided we’d make a trip to look at a few houses in a few places within that triangle. We kept it to ourselves, not wanting to get anyone overly excited until things were concrete, until we had a plan of where and when we were moving. We were especially excited to surprise my mom. We were trying to decide whether we’d tell her when we found a place and signed the papers, or whether we’d show up at her front door in a moving truck and ask if she wanted to come help haul some boxes.
How funny it would be!
A few months went by. We did a quick trip to look at houses, we did some virtual showings, nothing stuck, we were still secretly in the market for a house. We had told a couple of very close friends on the coast, who we saw regularly, that we were planning to move, but had kept our secret from the family. We couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when we finally divulged everything.
tee hee! We’re so sneaky!
And then we got the call that changed my life.
BOOM!
Mom
is
GONE.
She was napping on the couch, and when her partner tried to rouse her to get her to go to bed properly, he couldn’t wake her.
It didn’t make sense. I was texting with her the day before. He must be mistaken. He must be overreacting… surely he means she’s had a medical episode of some sort and is on the verge... find out which hospital they’ve taken her to. No. It’s not a mistake. My world is spinning out of control, it feels like I’m underwater. My heart is 1000 lbs, beating out of my chest. I can’t find words. I am in shock.
I texted our good friend, since it was a work day, and she might be in a meeting. I told her the news, and she came to get the kids for a while, so we could have time to pack and get things ready for that 12+ hour journey. Again. This time, on the day that CoVid social distancing protocols were dropped.
We drove to my sibling’s place, where we stayed a week, planning a service, trying to make decisions about something we knew nothing about (despite several deaths in the extended family throughout our lives, neither of us had been to a funeral or celebration of life before). Add to that the state of total shock, and making any sort of decision, even what to eat or drink, feels impossible. I floated through meetings, phone calls, days in a total fog, everything felt surreal. My memory of that time is still foggy. But we managed to pull something together, and deliver her eulogy ourselves. I think she was guiding us, from the other side, in some way.
A colourful display, with lots of "bling" to make it feel like her, "the Queen of Sparkle". We scattered a few of her rings around the display, and the painting in the middle is one of our favourites, that she painted years ago.
I wasn’t eating or sleeping. “Shock” really doesn’t do it justice. My entire being was shook, scrambled, disconnected. She wasn’t just my mom, she was my best friend. We talked daily, about everything and nothing. She was the first person I’d message about anything… To vent, express my frustrations, get advice, photos of the kids doing something, a silly story, to ask “what was that ingredient”, or “what was that song you used to sing”? And now I have to learn to live without that cornerstone. All the plans I’d made for the future, gone in an instant. I’ve never cried so much or so hard; I didn’t know it was possible to feel that sad. That slap in the face every time you are brought back to reality, and remember that they are gone. Again and again. Each time, another little piece of your soul gets chewed up. Each time, your heart gets another weight stacked on top. Amongst all those thoughts, all the “what if”s, one rings louder, above all the others:
“I never got to tell her we were coming back.”
We told nearly everyone we saw from then on. We told my father, my sibling, and hubby’s family as well. Sitting on it seemed silly and pointless then.
Stop waiting for tomorrow.
Time waits for no one.
The day after her service we decided to go look at houses.
Yes, really.
Something in me felt even more determined to find a home, more motivated to make that move. Something pushed me to “make it so”. A feeling came over me when we arrived in a town we had never been to before, that told me “this is the place”. And yes, we did end up buying a house there.
On our drive back to the coast, we had to drive through the Rocky Mountains. It was a little overcast, and gloomy, matching the mood pretty perfectly. And then we saw it: a rainbow. A bright, beautiful rainbow at the top of a mountain. And around the next corner, and the next, more rainbows. So many, in fact, that it seemed impossible. I started taking photos, to send to my sibling.
“I think Mom is trying to send a message.”
About 6 weeks later, we made the move.
We miss the coast terribly, but are so happy to be near family. To give the kids a chance to build deeper connections with their cousins, aunties, uncles, grandfathers. To be able to see each other more than once/year. To see each other often enough that we can now spend vacation time going on vacation, instead of driving 12+ hours each way, to visit family. We’ve been back to the island twice so far, each spring break since the move, to reconnect with the ocean, and with the good friends we left there.
I am still learning how to live without my mother. Still reeling, readjusting, finding my way forward. Grief, I have learned, is a lifelong journey. We never truly ”move on” from the loss of someone who we are so close with - we still love them, and grief is really just the love we still carry for them, sitting heavy in our hearts.
So, live your life. Do what you can with each day. Don’t live for anyone else’s expectations. Don’t be afraid to do the hard thing. Most things in life are changeable, so don’t let yourself feel like you are stuck. Because we never know how many days each of us get to exist on this plane.